Santander de Quilichao

I awoke early. My knees ached but I was able to bend them. I bought some pan de queso (roll with some cheese in it) at the corner panaderia and drank some coffee and realized that in fact I felt pretty good. A good warm-up and I would probably feel just fine on the road. Still, my plan was not to go too far. The way I once rode I could make Popayan today at 140km away, but at what cost? I reminded myself that I have until July 6^th before my Colombian visa expires. There is no hurry. I figured I could ride 50 km to Santander de Quilichao and make a short day of it.

I rode out of the hostel at 10pm, later than I had planned. However, a Caleno who worked at the hostel said it was probably a good idea as the last of Saturday night’s drunks are driving home early Sunday morning and the roads can be dangerous.

It was a long ride south through the city on Calle 5 and I passed the Plaza de Toros and a few places I had been to during the Feria de Cali. The traffic was not too heavy and then outside the city I was back riding through fields of sugar cane between the ranges of mountains. It is harvest season now and teams of men were in the fields cutting with machetes and trucks passed pulling multiple containers filled with sugar cane. The road dropped gently through the river valley and it was easy and fast riding, and I felt good in the saddle.

While taking a break under a tree a cyclist stopped and we talked and he warned me that Santander de Quilichao was not a safe place. There were hospedajes and hotels in the town, but robberies were frequent. You hear this kind of talk often in Colombia, with people warning you about the town you’re going to and then in that town everyone surprised you had not had trouble in the town you just came from. But this cyclist was clearly a knowledgeable and I took his warning seriously and thanked him for his advise.

The road continued through the lush, green country, the sun out now and hot but little traffic on the road other than the trucks transporting sugar cane. Before Santander de Quilichao I came upon a truck stop restaurant with attached hospedaje and I stopped and ordered a baked tilapia dressed with onions and tomatoes, sweet plantains, salad, and papas fritas for lunch.

England was playing Italy on the TV and I finished eating and had a tinto and asked how much further it was to Santander de Quilichao. The waitress said it was 10 minutes by bus and then she warned me about it being dangerous. I imagined riding into some dump of a town and having trouble finding a place to stay while being watched by a bunch of street kids. I had ridden into those towns before and didn't like being sized up by an entire town and everyone knowing where I was staying.

It was then that I decided to just stay at the truck stop hospedaje. It was clean and safe and I could get up early, pass through Santander before all the dangerous people were awake, and make Popayan in the afternoon. I took a room for 15,000 pesos and called it a day. I watched the second half of the match, overtime, and the penalty shootout from my room. The Italians, much as I dislike their style of play, were the superior team.

Back to Cali

I had done no road work before getting back into the saddle. Before leaving Buga for Bogota in March I had replaced the drive train and brakes and cleaned the bike and gear and there the machine sat, ready to ride, in the dormitory of the Buga Hostel.

I knew it was flat through the Valle Cauca to Cali. I had ridden that way twice before. I figured I would round into shape on the road. A few days before my departure I began to study the elevations and terrain as the Pan American Highway left the valley and south to Ecuador. There was very difficult climbing ahead and sooner than I expected. I would have only three days at most on the flats of the river valley before going up into the Andes. I was going to be tested and I knew there would be pain ahead as punishment for my neglecting to train.

I set out from Buga knowing two days wasn’t enough to get into shape for climbs up to 4000 meters and I was curious just what sort of legs I would have on the 90 km to Cali. I discovered I didn’t have much. I compounded my fatigue by stupidly passing up a comedor that I should have stopped at for lunch. I was forced to ride across 40 km of sugar cane fields until the next roadside restaurant. I bonked hard and only had a single banana for energy but I made it through and at Palmira I ordered the lunch menu and then collapsed at the table. France was playing Spain in the Euro but I hardly had the energy to watch it or even to eat. I rested at the restaurant for two hours.

I took a different route into Cali thinking anything had to be better than the traffic-heavy, potholed, and polluted--taxis and scooters weaving in and around you--way I had taken into Cali in 2010. But this new route was worse. I first had a long, indirect ride on tired legs through more sugar cane fields taking me around the city to the east, and then the road in was just as polluted and trafficked and bad as the other and indeed worse, because I was entering the city far from Barrio Granada on the western edge. I had a long ride back east through some poor neighborhoods and heavy traffic to the centro and then over the river.

I made the hostal in Granada just as the sun was going down behind the mountains. My knees ached and I had trouble getting up the stairs to my room. I showered, ate some pasta at an Italian restaurant I knew on Avenida Sexta, and went to bed. I wondered if my knees would bend in the morning and the thought of the mountains began to really scare me.

The Ninja of Buga

Miguel, Protector of Buga

Prison Hooch

Iglesia Santa Ana in barrio Teusaquillo 

A few days after returning to Bogota I received a message from Diego saying the prison hooch was ready. Before leaving for Buga, Diego had shown me the contraption he had constructed for making "pruno", or prison wine, and had lamented I might not be around to drink it, despite his making a batch of 5 liters. If it was any good he and Antoine, who lived in the room beside him at the boarding house, were sure to drink it all before I returned.

Tube releases CO2 so that the container does not swell or explode,

and grounded in water no oxygen is allowed into the container 

But when I arrived at the boarding house in the Teusaquilla neighborhood, I found that Antoine had left for good and Diego had no one to drink it with. Diego had already set out a bottle for me to take home and he served me up a first glass. The hooch was pinkish colored from the cherries and tasted strongly of the apples and oranges he had also used. We each squeezed in a half a lime for flavor. It was certainly drinkable.

But it was a bit too sweet. This signaled that the fermentation process had not been carried out long enough to consume both the sugar he had added to the mixture as well as the natural sugars in the fruits. It just wasn't warm enough in Diego's room or in the kitchen and there was no sunlight to aid in speeding the fermentation. The hooch was more a mildly alcoholic fruit juice, probably on the order of 5% alcohol. Still, it was enjoyable to drink and the rest of the five liter container Diego planned to let further ferment. The total cost of the hootch operation was 5,000 pesos, or about $2.75.

Water + Sugar + Oranges + Apples + Cherries + Yeast

Preparations

With two days of disassembly, repair and cleaning now complete, the Bike Friday has a new rear sprocket set (including a lower low gear than the prior set), new chain, new front brakes, and a new Schwalbe Plus rear tire. Plan to take it out for a ride around Buga tomorrow and make adjustments. Some brake and shifting problems remain.

Buga

Baile